Sails of Fire
by Lady Halfheart
Summary: Grace Harte does what she wants, just like a pirate should... or more likely: just like her father would. Female pirate story parallel to the Pirates of the Caribbean storyline. OC/OC.


Her curse could not be heard over the noise the people were making in the inn. She saw her mother walk away from her to avoid further argument with disgust. Her jaw clinched as she grabbed tankards off a table, slamming them on her round silver tray. It seemed these days she could not have a moment of peace when Teressa was around her. Her mother took joy in nagging, mocking and bossing her around like a slave ever since she was born. Sometimes Grace wondered why she kept her in the first place. _"Your father never loved me, I was just a whore to him," _she would slurr at her some nights, before taking more sips of her liquor, _"he got what he wanted then pissed off with that crew of criminals, he did."_ It was no secret to Grace that her father was a pirate – her mother had kindly made that obvious for her. _"Should have given you to him to throw in the sea."_

She shook her head to get rid of the voices echoing in her mind. She wiped the table and walked to the counter to put the tankards away. Grace was no stranger to the kind of crowd that came to her mother's inn, but the feel of a hand touching her bottom still created the familiar rage inside of her – a rage she had trouble holding back.

"Do this one more time and I will cut that hand off you." she hissed into the man's ear.

The old, bearded man laughed at her and reached for her breasts, as if nothing had come out of Grace's mouth. It was too much for her: her mother's words, the heavy stink of beer and sweat, the perverted men... She smacked his hand away and waited for him to stand like she guessed he would. She didn't move as he rose to his feet, anger painted all over his face. To Grace, it was actually quite amusing to see him like this, since she was the victim here.

"Someone needs to teach you a lesson, young lady," he grumbled. He took a sip of his beer and threw the tankard at her. "Now your job is to clean that up, serve me an other and please us, whore."

She put her tray down, ignoring the alcohol dripping down the front of her dress. "And you old man," she said calmly, almost smiling despite the frown on her face. "Need to know that I am no whore and no servant to pigs like you." She finished.

The punch that followed felt like a shot of anger had left her body. She felt his nose break as her fist hit him and took a step back as the big sailor fell against the table, almost knocking it over. He had blood dripping down his face and was struggling to get to his feet. Men were gathered around, not saying a word for a second before bursting out with cheers and laughter.

"You little-"

The sound that cut him off scared Grace as much as it scared the man. The familiar clicking noise made everyone shut up and no one dared to move. She looked to her left and and saw the person holding a gun pointing towards the red nosed man.

"Touch her once more and I'll end this the correct way." He muttered.

Grace's jaw fell open. The young person did not move and nor did the man, but people started murmuring around them and Grace felt a sudden shame overtake her. What was she thinking? And what would people think of her after this?

"Enough!" her mother shouted, walking out from behind her counter, red as an apple. "You, get out! Before I get you arrested!" She ordered, pointing a chubby finger towards the injured old man. "You, put that away and go back to minding your own business!" She then said to the man with a gun.

She stood at the same place with her hands on her hips as she watched them do as she asked. Grace felt like rolling her eyes at her mother, thinking how stupid she looked when she did this. She looked at where the man sat back down to finish his drink. He was alone and his face had been hidden by his had the whole time. His clothes were a mix of new, clean ones and rough, torn pieces of cloths. A hope filled her heart as she stared at him.

"And you, young lady," her mother's voice made her snap back into reality. She turned to look at her and saw that she was now right in front of her.

She said nothing but let out something that sounded like a grunt of frustration before slapping Grace across the face. People turned back around to look at the scene. Grace held her cheek and felt it pumping with pain and heat.

"No. More." Her mother hissed before turning back around.

The young woman had no idea what took her when she grabbed a tankard before throwing it against her mother's head. It was back... the rage, the anger, the frustration of being treated that way – it all came back to Grace at once, and she couldn't control it.

"No more, Mother." She simply said before ripping her apron off.

She chucked the piece of dirty material at her mother and walked out. Thankfully, only four of five people had been witnessing the scene, so Grace didn't feel the pressure of people watching her as she stepped outside the Blue Hart's Inn. Her mother did not follow, at her relief, and Grace walked towards the bay just opposite the inn, where she usually went when she was upset. Therefore: almost every day.

She sat on the edge and stared at the water below her feet for a while, before looking in front of her and letting out a long sight. It was mix of relief and sadness that left her. Nassau was calm tonight and the sky above the town. She looked around and only saw stolen ships and torn flags flying in the warm wind.

Grace hadn't really seen it, but her home town had recently become much different from what it was before. Criminals walked around freely and pirates came here to do their business without a risk of being caught. It was anarchy in Nassau now, and Grace had done her best to stay out of it as much as she could.

She heard a noise behind her and got up immediately, prepared to whatever she could do to defend herself.

"Such a young lady shouldn't be out here alone," the man said, with a half-mocking smile across his face. "You never know who or what you can come across, aye?"

"Aye," she said quietly. "I know how to defend myself if I need to." She eyed him suspiciously. He did not act like a threat whatsoever. But as he said: women here cannot be too precocious.

"So I saw," he chuckled. "Quite a punch you gave him. Who would have thought, looking at you?"

It hit her then: he was the man from the inn. He turned out to be young and handsome, she saw. Nevertheless, she narrowed her eyes and stayed stiff and ready to fight back. God knows what the Hell this man wants from her. He seemed to have noticed this.

"I won't hurt you," he said, losing the smile. "I need you."


End file.
